Wait, What?
by pearlgirl97
Summary: The Avengers aren't really sure what to make of this. Well, everyone except Steve. What? They'd gone up against a Norse god and he was really the only one who bothered to do any research afterwards? Mpreg Loki. See author's note for warnings. Not Thorki, not slash, and not your typical Mpreg fic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Alright, normally I find Mpreg rather repulsive and would never write a story like this, but Loki gave me no choice. His mythology makes it practically canon, and I really, _really_ want to write him with mood swings and cravings. I was going to wait until I had most of the story written before I posted, but I wanted to see if anybody would even read this.**

**Warnings:**

**This story probably won't be much more than five chapters, if that, unless I get a lot of suggestions that I like. It is not a slash story, and will only contain a short explanation of how it is that Loki came to be in this situation. Because of the subject matter, it will contain brief discussions of Loki's anatomy as well as "The birds and the bees." It will absolutely _not _contain any Thorki, only Thor not respecting Loki's personal space. I hope to update fairly quickly, but I make _no_ promises. If you have any other questions or concerns, I would direct you to either the PM button or the review box.**

**For those of you still holding out for my Artemis Fowl story "Unusual Circumstances," I am so, _so_ sorry, and I don't deserve you. I promise that I have not given up on it, but am currently trying to muster up the resolve to begin rewriting it. This here is literally the only thing more than a thousand words long that I've been able to write in months, and I hope it signals the end of this accursed block.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Avengers, Loki wouldn't have stabbed Thor in the ribs with a ninja star.**

**Loki PoV**

He wasn't sure how much more of this agony he could take. He'd known that he would be made to suffer for his supposed crimes, but he never thought his punishers could be this sadistic. He wanted to scream and rage, but knew that it would only result in further chastisement at a later time. He'd just have persevere and pray that something would come along to deliver him from this agony. Perhaps a javelin to the brain or spontaneous combustion.

"Oh, thank you so much, dearie," the elderly woman gushed, not at all put off by his cold glare as she accepted the package of socks, looking for all the world as if he had just handed her the key to the city instead of a few pieces of sewn cloth. Oh yes, this was torture.

When Loki had been presented before Odin and the court to learn of his punishment, he'd been, ashamedly, terrified. Oh, you wouldn't know it from the haughty mask he hid behind, but inside, he was filled with all sorts of insecurities. While he was fairly certain that the man he used to call father would just lock him up for a few millennia, part of him wondered if, perhaps, he had grown tired of it all. Tired of pitying this unwanted orphan, this useless tool; tired of pretending to care. Maybe, instead of keeping up the act, he would use this as an opportunity to express his dissatisfaction in all of his failings, and use the full extent of the law to do so.

Part of the process of announcing the verdict was that the guilty had to stand and listen while their fate was debated, which Loki now knew first hand was an excellent way to make the process all the more excruciating. He was forced to wait and endure the disgusted looks of his old "friends", the disappointment in Frigga's eyes, and the front of cold indifference on the king's face while they decided exactly how he was to atone.

Some had called for execution while others merely leaned towards life imprisonment. A few suggested sewing his mouth closed while they were at it, and one particularly violent woman had suggested they bind him to a rock with his own entrails while a snake dripped acidic venom on him from above. Thankfully, that idea was shot down by Odin fairly quickly, but the alternative was almost worse.

He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that Odin would choose Thor's suggested punishment, but he had to admit, he was almost in awe of his brother's cunning. He knew exactly how to target him, precisely how to make him squirm and writhe in racking torment. (Deep down, he knew that Thor truly thought that he was doing him a favor, but it was so much easier to imagine him taking pleasure from his pain. It made hating him much more comfortable, despite the genuine affection he used to feel for the man, regardless of the resentment that had accompanied it.)

Which was why, instead of ruminating in his own hatred while he slowly rotted away in a cell and planned his revenge, he was now working with the detail in charge of distributing clothing and toiletries to the newly homeless of New York City.

Odin had seen it as poetic justice; Loki made the mess, it was only fair he had to help clean it up.

Loki held nothing but contempt for the Midgardians. They may be similar in appearance to Asgardians (even after everything, he still considered himself one, if only because he refused to see himself as a Jotun), but they were weak, short-lived, and narrow-minded. They were barely worthy to lick his boots, and they should be grateful that he was willing to rule them.

"Hey! Logan, buddy, how you doing?"

He sighed rather than snarling and whimpering like the cornered animal he was currently empathizing with.

Until he had began his sentence, Loki had been thoroughly convinced that his brother (NO! Not his brother, his rival and enemy) was the single most obnoxious person in all of the worlds. That was before he met Terry Peterson, the supervisor. Somehow, this human managed to beat a near god in being oblivious, unduly cheerful, and ridiculously optimistic.

So, not only was he forced to help the beings he looked down upon on a daily basis, not to mention while working on such an inane project,

(Why couldn't he be part of the construction detail? At least then the only interaction he'd have to have with these ridiculous creatures was when he was being told what to do. It was much easier to swallow orders and cheerfully imagine dismembering the issuer than to have to endure all these smiles and thank you's, and to witness the hope that danced in these peoples' eyes and seemed to taunt him with how impotent he was, despite everything he'd done to try and crush them.)

but he also had to answer to a human that was so much like a Thor on steroids in every way but size. It was beyond humiliating.

He restrained the snarl of rage he was inclined to release when the irritating little man swung an arm around his shoulder. (Terry had to stand up on his toes to accomplish this, but accomplish it he did.)

"Did you hear me, Logan? You were just staring into space and I thought I'd come see how you were doing." Exactly like Thor. And then there was his change in name. Even with his extensive efforts to make himself known to the world with the battle, not very many people recognized his face as the one that had tried to enslave them. (S.H.I.E.L.D likely had a lot to do with that.) In all honesty, he would be dead by now if that was not the case. However, a few did know him by name, and even those who didn't understand it's significance would still find it odd. Thus, Logan.

"I am fine, Terry. Is there something you require?" he asked with forced politeness, gingerly ducking under and away from the offending extremity.

There were two reasons that he did not verbally- or even physically- eviscerate the man where he stood for such an affront.

One, the Avengers; he had to live with them. Or, under them, really. His quarters were in the basement of Stark tower in a room more sparse than most Asgardian prison cells.

The point being, if any of them caught wind that he was being anything less than the model inmate, the harassment he had to deal with from them would only increase, as well as the lecturing from Thor.

(The harassment mostly just came from Hawkeye and Stark. Stark and the Beast were the only one's that were even there consistently, while the Hawk made a point of dropping in just to make him miserable. Even so, just the two of them were nearly enough to drive him insane.)

Two, his powers were restrained, and he had no allies. He may still be stronger than most Midgardians, but he had yet to meet a race that was above ganging up on an opponent to assure victory, and even he wouldn't make it out unscathed if more than four or five came at him at once. Thor may assist him, but he wouldn't count on it until he was on Death's door. No, it didn't make any sense to be picking fights.

That did not mean that he just laid down and behaved like a well trained dog. It was really too easy to cause mischief amongst these humans, even the Avengers, and he took a small amount of satisfaction from messing with them when he could get away with it... but it was all so childish. Spreading rumors, "misplacing" something of importance; it was all things he'd accomplished as a child, and the few times he did manage to get one up on his enemies, well, they had better resources than he did and would simply retaliate with something ten times as humiliating, resulting in him just being reminded that there was nothing he could do about it and that he was completely at there mercy until he could find a way out of these confounded cuffs!

"Nah, you just keep doing what you're doing," Terry replied with that idiotic smile of his. Thankfully, some frantic volunteer started yelling for him, something about losing all of the toothpaste, and he was spared whatever senseless babble he might have been subjected to.

He turned to assist the next sock-deprived cretin, but instead of a 'How may I help you?', a scream tore from his mouth, and he collapsed to the ground, clutching his midriff.

**Thor PoV**

If someone were to ask Thor what it was that made him love Earth so much, he would answer with a simple "Jane Foster." If they continued to press, he would begin waxing poetic about his three biggest loves after her: Pop Tarts, coffee, and donuts. As far as he knew, these things were completely unique to Midgard, and when it was time to go home, he would be certain to stock up with enough to last him several years.

Currently, he had three boxes of the last one tucked under his arm as he made his way back to his brother. One was already empty, the second was half-way there, and the third he was saving.

"Hey, Point Break, aren't you supposed to be on babysitting duty today?" a metallic voice called down from somewhere above him.

"Greetings to you as well, Man of Iron," he called back jovially, nodding as a red and gold automaton landed next to him, the faceplate sliding up to reveal Tony Stark. "I was merely out retrieving sustenance. And you?"

"Holding up a bridge while they replaced the support columns; I'd say that deserves a box of 'job well done' donuts, wouldn't you?" A metal hand attempted to snake in and snatch the last box before Thor smacked it away.

"If you wish to eat donuts, you must go and purchase your own. These are for Son of Peter, who has been working very hard on helping those negatively affected by our battle," he said firmly, tucking the box protectively into his side.

"Uh huh. You mean Son of Peter and psychotic baby brother," he replied with clear skepticism.

Thor felt the familiar anger flare up for a moment as the insult before it quickly puttered out. Defending his brother's honor was just too exhausting when he gave him no reason to do so.

"He has not caused any major incidences since last week's bathing room fire," he justified weakly. "Surely a reward of some kind would not be amiss."

"A reward for not setting something on fire? Gee, sure wish they had those when _I _was a kid," Stark deadpanned.

Anything Thor might have said in response was cut off by a scream, one that he was not accustomed to hearing but recognized all the same. A split second later, the donuts had gone flying while the God of Thunder and Man of Iron sprinted towards the sound of the commotion.

**Third PoV**

The two rounded a corner to see a crowd gathered in front of the distribution building, pained cries rising from the center where a frantic Terry was trying to figure out what was wrong with Loki.

Thor nearly bulldozed his way through the throng, physically lifting and setting aside a man who wasn't fast enough to get out of the way, ignoring the startled protests while he shooed Peterson away. Tony stood back, yelling at the crowd to shove off while readying his plasma cannons in case this proved to be a trap.

"Loki, how are you hurt? Tell us what you need," Thor demanded, all-business. Loki weakly raised a hand to him.

"M-magic," he managed to get out, biting on his lip hard to keep from screaming. Thor's gaze abruptly hardened, and he stood back up, unsheathing Mjolnir and pointing it in his brother's face.

"Whatever trickery this is, Loki, cease at once," he intoned, his face seeming to be carved from stone.

"Th-Thor, p-please," he begged, jerking as he was hit with another round of wracking pain.

"No! I grow weary of you using my affection to manipulate me, now stand up," he roared.

"Brother, it will die if you don't!" he shrieked, not realizing how he'd just addressed his nemesis.

There was a moment where nothing but utter shock showed on Thor's face, before he quickly reached down and firmly clasped Loki's hand in his. After a few seconds, Loki's entire body relaxed, his face clearing as he let his hand flop to the ground. He still panted for breath, but the pain was gone.

Thor gathered him up and cradled him in his free arm, despite Loki's exhausted objections, and began to swing Mjolnir for momentum.

"Uh, what just happened here?" Thor glanced over, having nearly forgotten that Stark was even there.

"Loki almost suffered from a miscarriage," he responded curtly, before letting his hammer fly, heading straight for the Avengers Tower.

Tony stared after them. "Wait, what?"

**A/N Reviews are love! Especially constructively critical reviews. Were the characters in character? Was my grammar up to par? Let me know how I can improve the reading experience for you. Also, feel free to leave suggestions for funny pregnancy scenes, otherwise, I'll have to use my imagination. *Le Gasp!* (And someone, please, help me come up with nicknames for Tony to call everybody. I felt so guilty for using 'Point Break' and not coming up with something original. I lack the cleverness and cultural awareness of the great Tony Stark! D: ) Love you all, see you later. ^_^**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N ... Oh gosh, this one just drags and drags, but I hope you like it anyway. I've realized that this will probably be more than five chapters, but only about five of them will really contribute to the "plot" of this story. Everything else will either be angst or fluffiness. (As much as Loki would allow.)**

**Thank you to all of those who alerted and faved, and to erikstrulove for reviewing.**

**P.S. I rewatched _Thor _yesterday to help me get a better understanding of Loki's character, and I'd forgotten about all the FEELS. I wanted to cry at the trophy room scene between Loki and Odin.**

**Disclaimer: Okay, so, it wasn't a ninja star... but it definitely wasn't an ordinary dagger!**

**Thor PoV**

The tower was quiet that afternoon, Bruce being the only one currently there and not one inclined to make noise, even if he were anywhere in sight. It made the sound of Thor's landing on the balcony seem booming in comparison. He barged in without a thought, his stride purposeful and almost angry.

"Jarvis," he barked, his voice void of the usual deference he held for the mechanical butler. "I require a room for Loki at once." He would be damned if he let his brother return to the basement in this condition, an arrangement he had objected to from the beginning. The next moment could be described as being filled with stunned silence, if it were possible for a machine to experience such a thing.

"... Ah, yes, Master Thor. Take the elevator up a floor and turn to your left; you may take your pick of prepared guest rooms." Thor was already walking before Jarvis had finished speaking, and was thankful to find that the elevator was already on that floor, since he had yet to locate the stairs that he was more inclined to take. If he wanted to get anywhere, he usually just jumped out a window, so finding them hadn't been high on his priority list.

"Put me down," Loki suddenly demanded, pushing ineffectually on his arms. Thor was honestly surprised he'd remained silent this long.

"No," he replied shortly, and it was a testament to how agitated he was that that was all he said. It was a small relief that the doors opened again almost as soon as they had closed.

"Thor, I am pregnant, not infirm. I am perfectly capable of walking on my own," he insisted, but Thor did not deign to reply. The slight hitch in his brother's voice when he resumed walking and the way he was just a little too limp in his arms told him all he needed to know.

He chose a door at random, ignoring everything about the characterless room other than the bed where he set Loki. His brother spared a moment to glare at him before flopping back, seeming perfectly at ease, though he avoided meeting Thor's scrutinizing eye.

"Who is the father?" he finally asked, his face a blank mask that had become much easier to don since Loki's first betrayal.

"I don't see what business it is of yours," he drawled lazily in reply, still refusing to meet his gaze.

Thor surged forward, grasping his brother's chin and forcing him to look at him. "Loki, this is a very grave matter and should be treated as such. It is my duty to report this to the Allfather, and I cannot properly plead your case if you do not tell me everything," he lectured tensely.

"Your duty," he scoffed, lips curled into a snarl and his eyes baleful. They had a brief glaring contest before Loki gave in. "He never told me his name, and I never asked."

"But he is human?" Thor pressed. He nodded jerkily, a feat made much more difficult than it should have been given that Thor had yet to release him. He finally let go and made for the door.

"You should sleep; your body will heal faster with rest."

"Yes, Mother. Because no one's ever told me that before," he snarked, though he made no move to leave the bed, his weariness obvious despite the efforts made to hide it.

"Jarvis, keep an eye on Loki, and alert Stark if he gets up to any mischief."

"Don't order my AI," the aforementioned genius reproached, appearing in the doorway, his armor now put away.

"Fine then, you tell Jarvis to keep an eye on Loki and alert you to any mischief," he ordered curtly. He ignored the raised eyebrow he received in response, focusing instead on removing his bracelet and clasping it on Stark's own wrist. "Hold onto that until I get back."

The bracelet held a direct connection to Loki's cuffs, which resembled bracelets themselves. If one lost sight of Loki, it could be used to track his location, and if it ever got too far from them, they would begin to itch Loki terribly until they came back into range. It could also act as a kind of shock collar should he misbehave, and only the wearer was capable of removing it.

"And what exactly is so important that you have to leave your precious little brother that you've practically been glued to since you got here?"

"I have a thing that I must attend in Asgard."

"A thing," Stark stated, unimpressed. "As flattering as it is, you shouldn't copy my evasion tactics; it's only cool when I do it."

"I think he means an actual thing. As in the Germanic assembly," a groggy voice cut in as Banner approached the two, looking like he'd just woken up from a nap. "What did I miss?"

"I don't even want to know how you knew that. Okay, so you have an actual thing," Stark conceded, ignoring Bruce's question for the moment. "Why can't you just bring little Loki with you?"

"Inter-realm travel would be bad for the baby."

"Baby?" Bruce asked, suddenly looking much more awake.

"For the love of Valhalla, go away! I'm trying to sleep here," an irritated voice shouted from behind the now-closed door. Thor sighed.

"Please allow him a few hours to rest, and make sure he eats something at some point. Hopefully, I will be back either tonight, or early tomorrow. Farewell." With that, he hurried off without another word.

"No, seriously, what did I miss?

**Loki PoV**

He managed to sleep in from noon to about five in the evening before they started pestering him.

"Hey, God of Getting His Butt Kicked, it's time for dinner. Come on out," Stark called through the door. Usually Loki would just take his meals in his room, and Stark knew that. He wanted something. Well, he most certainly was not going to get it.

"No. Go away."

"I don't need Thor bellyaching at me because I didn't take care of his delicate little prisoner. He's almost as bad as Cap when he gets to lecturing."

"You just want to interrogate me. If you're so curious, wait until that dunder-headed bruiser gets back."

"I could drag you out."

"Lay one finger on me, and I'll throw you out another window. My magic may be bound, but I am still stronger than you."

"I have the Shocky Armband of Death."

"Use that, and Thor really won't let you hear the end of it." As agitating, confusing, and hateful as Thor's protectiveness was, it did occasionally have its uses.

What happened next kicked off a two and a half hour battle of wills.

First, Stark sent in the Beast

"Hey, Loki, we'd really appreciate it if you joined us for dinner," he stated in that polite yet bitter way of his after knocking on the door. Loki snorted.

"If that irritating engineer really thinks that you can intimidate me into submission, he has another thing coming." True, he'd been a bit... wary of Banner since the battle, but that didn't mean he was going to cower and plead every time he came within ten yards. He was certain he would only unleash the Hulk in the most dire of circumstances (though, he did make sure to rein himself in a little on the insults) ; certainly not for something as petty as this.

Next, the butler.

"Master Stark requests your presence for dinner." What- Oh, the damned computer. He noticed that it failed to address him by any sort of title, no doubt a paltry jab at the hands of the Tin Man.

"Tell him to shove it up his arse, you primitive machine. I'm not coming," he snarled. Next moment, he was cursing as he realized that Stark had put it on a loop. This resulted in fiffy five minutes of him wanting to tear his hair out while the recording gradually got shorter, until it was just repeating "dinner" over and over again. It finally stopped, and Loki was left with a moment to hope that perhaps the torment was over, before he nearly fell over from where he was pacing, one of those human heavy metal bands blasting at full volume. His ears were ringing and his head was aching by the time it ended an hour and fifteen minutes later; though, the later might have been affected by the fact that he had started physically banging his head against the wall half way through it.

He waited with growing trepidation for the next torture to begin, and was surprised when the silence was ended by a scream. What was supposed to be unnerving about that? He found out a moment later when certain... other sounds emitted from the speakers, and he realized it was playing the audio on a porn tape. He rolled his eyes; Stark had obviously misjudged him if he thought sex would embarrass him. Didn't he just discover that he was pregnant? Surely he knew that that didn't just happen on its own.

There must have been a camera somewhere to view his disdain, because this one only lasted fifteen minutes. Loki crossed his arms, beginning to feel rather smug. Until the next track began to play, and he shot out of the room like a bat out of hell.

"WHAT THE F*** WAS THAT?!" he shrieked upon arriving at the sitting room, a crazed (not crazed, harried) look in his eye. Stark and Banner sat at the bar, Stark holding a tablet, looking extremely pleased with himself, and Banner not quite able to keep the amusement off his face.

"That would be the soundtrack to one of the Carebear movies," Stark answered, putting the tablet down in exchange for picking up his scotch. "Cold spaghetti?"

The two must have eaten while he was busy enduring auditory abuse, a single plate of pasta stagnating between them. He let out a wordless growl (one he felt comfortable using since Thor wasn't there to draw parallels between his and Odin's) and sat down heavily, finally setting aside his pride and digging in. It had added insult to injury that he had actually been quite hungry while he was resisting, something he wasn't accustomed to. Asgardians only ate regularly for pleasure, not actual need, when they could actually go for quite a time without food before suffering from any consequences. Thor had warned him that he would need the extra energy now that his powers were restrained, but he hadn't anticipated the extent of it.

"So... you're pregnant."

"I'm not telling you anything," Loki spat stubbornly between bites.

"Carebears."

"I will trail you and make you suffer with me."

"I have headphones."

Loki wondered briefly if the horrendous noises could be considered a threat to his well-being. The cuffs only allowed him to use violence in self defense, but maybe they would register the pain Stark's actions caused him and allow him to bypass it. He started to raise his hands, whether to strangle the infuriating man or stab him with his fork he had yet to decide, but was cut off by the shooting pain originating from his wrists. Well, that answered that question.

"Bruuuuce, Loki just made an attempt on my life," Stark complained, obviously noting the pain that crossed his face before he could hide it.

"You expected different?" Banner asked skeptically. There was a small chime that signaled the elevator doors opening before Stark could reply.

"Hey, guys... Uh, what's Loki doing here?" Steve's voice suddenly sounded from the elevator, wary curiosity on his face as he strode forward an took his own seat.

"Hey, Capsicle. Turns out, Loki's pregnant, which Thor seems to think means he can stay up here now," Stark replied off-handedly, a slight gleam in his eye as he waited for a reaction.

"Really?" he asked, surprised, but not utterly shocked or staggered like he should have been. "Does that mean that you actually gave birth to a horse?"

Banner spewed the wine he had been sipping, Stark looked at the Soldier like he was crazy, and Loki stilled, his face turning thunderous. Damn Volstagg and his lively tongue! Of course that story would be the one to go in their history books.

"Care to run that by us again," Banner choked out, wiping the purple juice off his chin.

"You know, from the mythology? They say that Loki gave birth to an eight-legged horse that became Odin's steed... Am I really the only one who bothered to do any research on the _Norse god _that tried to take over the world?"

"Is this true," Banner asked, turning to Loki, obviously intrigued.

"Look at his face, of course it's true. How did _that _happen?"

Loki scowled. "How do you think? Perhaps your parents never told you, Stark, but children are not actually delivered by storks."

"Huh, it's the same sorry tale on every world. So, that means you did it with a horse?"

"Slepnir certainly didn't get the hooves from me."

"But the Wikipedia page said that you were a mare when, er, the event took place, as well as when you gave birth."

Loki was rather relieved when the other two opted to turn their stares from him onto the Captain.

"What?" the man asked, looking self conscious.

"How do you know what Wikipedia is, let alone how to use it?" Stark demanded, more surprised that his culturally ignorant brother in arms understood something about the modern world than that his distinctly male enemy was with child.

"Uh, Pepper showed me." Banner got over his surprise more quickly than his friend and turned back to Loki.

"Wait, so you were actually female when this, uh, occurred?"

Loki nearly threw his hands up from frustration. "_Yes. _Really, I thought you were supposed to be intelligent for a human. Two males are not capable of producing a child, everybody knows that."

Stark raised an eyebrow at him, looking pointedly at his midriff before going back to his face. Loki groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why were these Midgardians such _idiots?_

"One of my many talents is shapeshifting, which can transcend gender as well as forms. I was female when I engaged in intercourse, and thus was capable of conceiving a child. Technically, I am female now, so I will be able to deliver the child. In the case of Slepnir, he would not have been born with eight legs if my form was all that affected him. He was infused with my natural magic, while he retained his sire's shape. Does that answer all of your questions?" He made sure to inject as much contempt as possible into his words, making it clear how shockingly little he thought of their supposed intellect.

They were blessedly silent for a moment before- who could have guessed- Stark spoke up.

"Well then, _ma'am,_" he drawled mockingly. "Why didn't you tell Thor that you were knocked up? He obviously didn't know, and it seems like a good way to earn pity points from the judge, assuming they ignored how utterly screwed up the situation was."

"I didn't know until today," he muttered, not bothering to tell him that being pregnant most certainly wouldn't have helped at all.

"Riiiight, you just never bothered to change back after you got jiggy." He paused. "Unless that's actually what happened. In which case, you're even more mixed up in the brain-pan than I thought."

"I did change back, that's why I needed-" he grit his teeth. "_Thor's assistance. _I had to borrow his magic to make the transformation." He plowed on before they could ask any more idiotic questions. "Jo- Asgardians have a quirk in there anatomy; there is a small cavity located below our stomaches. It serves no purpose, but it exists. The embryo must have remained there even after I returned to my normal state, living off of my magic until it grew too large and started pushing on my insides. That is my best guess of what has happened." Why was he even bothering explaining this? Was it fear of retribution? Intolerance for their stupid speculation?

The Soldier looked confused, having not heard of the day's earlier events, the Beast looked thoughtful, and the Tinkerer had donned his grating smirk.

"Congratulations, Preggers," he mocked, slapping Loki on the back. "You know, you're taking this all very well for a guy who just found out he's expecting. But, like Stevie said, I guess this isn't your first time."

No, it most certainly wasn't, and he definitely wasn't as floored as Stark seemed to think he should be. Yes, it was a surprise, but it would only be a minor inconvenience in the sea of difficulties his life had become. He didn't care what happened to the child and would be rid of it as soon as he was able.

_If that's the case, why are you so anxious of Thor's return?_

He had no time to retort, whether mentally to himself or verbally to Stark, for, the next moment, they heard a thud out on the balcony. Speak of the devil (a phrase he'd learned since arriving there and rather liked, despite his general disgust for anything Midgard).

The door to the balcony opened, and Loki unconsciously sat up straighter. Thor wore his traveling cloak (Frigga had probably convinced him to wear it, the mother hen she was) so he could not see his face, which was suddenly very important. How had the meeting with Odin gone?

Thor threw back his hood, and Loki relaxed- almost, but not quite- imperceptibly at the wide smile that adorned the Asgardian's face. That is, until Thor crossed the room in a blink of the eye and had him caught in one of his back-breaking embraces, practically squealing in his ear, "I'm going to be an uncle!"

**A/N Confused by Thor's sudden change in attitude? Fear not, explanations are on the way... Ugh, that interrogation scene just went on forever and ever, I hope it wasn't too... whatever the word is. Though, I did have fun writing the "torture" scene. Thank you all so much for reading, please R&R. Love you all, see ya next time. ^^**


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